Chapter 17 A glimpse of the past

Li Tianming walked leisurely across the crimson bridge that stretched over the tranquil lake of his personal residence, his black hair shining under the midday sun. The waters below reflected his image, the glittering embroidery of his robes casting golden ripples across the surface. He gazed at his own reflection, admiring the way his amber eyes gleamed with satisfaction. He was young, the son of the Sect Leader, and the future of the Crimson Dragon Sect was his to inherit. The world had paved a golden road for him, and he had never known struggle, only admiration. From the moment he could walk, he had been a prodigy—his every action praised, his talent recognized as something beyond ordinary. The sect elders, the disciples, even the lowest servants, all looked at him with reverence. He was like a prince, and his entire life was laid out before him in dazzling brilliance.

As he continued across the bridge, a pair of young disciples approached, their heads bowed with utmost respect. "Senior Brother Tianming!" one of them called out, his voice filled with excitement. "May we speak with you for a moment?"

Tianming turned gracefully, his robes shifting like flowing silk. "Of course," he said smoothly, always composed, always perfect.

The two disciples, barely fifteen, stepped forward hesitantly. "Senior Brother," the taller one began, "we were watching your swordplay yesterday. It was... beyond words. Even Elder Jian said you moved with the grace of a dragon descending from the heavens! We've been training tirelessly, but no matter how much we try, we can never match your precision."

The shorter disciple nodded fervently. "Please, Senior Brother, share some of your wisdom with us! Just a little guidance from you could change our fates!"

Tianming gave a small, knowing smile. He was accustomed to this—the admiration, the endless praise, the desperate desire to learn from him. He had grown up in it, basked in it. "Diligence is the key," he said, his voice rich with the confidence of someone who had never doubted himself. "But diligence alone is not enough. You must also have the heart of a dragon, a mind sharper than the blade in your hand. Watch the flow of your movements, let your breathing guide your strikes. If you are meant for greatness, it will come naturally."

The two disciples nodded rapidly, their faces filled with awe. "Senior Brother Tianming's words are as profound as always," the taller one murmured. "No wonder the Sect Master places all his hopes in you!"

As Tianming bid them farewell, he continued his walk through the vast expanse of the Crimson Dragon Sect, where every stone path, every towering pagoda, every meticulously maintained garden spoke of the sect's power and grandeur. It was one of the most powerful sects in the land, feared and respected, and he—Li Tianming—was at its center.

In the grand martial courtyard, a group of disciples gathered around a ring where a sparring match had just concluded. The victor, a senior disciple, stood panting while his opponent lay on the ground, defeated. The moment Tianming arrived, all eyes turned to him, admiration lighting up the faces of the gathered disciples.

"Senior Brother Tianming is here!" someone whispered.

The victorious disciple turned, cupping his hands respectfully. "Senior Brother, would you do us the honor of a demonstration?"

Tianming stepped into the ring effortlessly, his robes gliding with his movements. "Very well," he said, amusement flickering in his golden eyes. "Let us see what you have learned."

The disciple nodded, drawing his sword. He was strong, one of the top talents in the sect, but even he knew the gap between himself and Li Tianming was insurmountable. The match began, and in a blur of movement, Tianming was already behind him, his fingers lightly tapping the disciple's shoulder.

"You are too slow," Tianming said with a slight smile.

Before the disciple could react, Tianming moved again, appearing at his side in an instant, his palm striking lightly against the man's wrist. The sword fell to the ground with a sharp clang. Gasps erupted from the crowd.

"His speed is unreal!"

"Did anyone even see him move?"

"That's why he's the Crimson Dragon's pride. No one can match him!"

The disciple knelt, his face flushed with both effort and admiration. "I concede, Senior Brother. Your skill is beyond my reach."

Tianming extended a hand, helping him up. "You have talent," he said, his tone filled with confidence. "Continue honing your strength, and one day, you may stand closer to me."

A murmur of awe spread through the crowd. Even in victory, Li Tianming was magnanimous. He was not merely strong—he was born to lead.

Later that evening, Tianming walked through the sect's grand hall, where the elders and core disciples had gathered for a feast in honor of a victorious campaign against a rival sect. His father, the Sect leader, sat at the head of the table, his expression proud as he raised a cup toward his youngest son.

"Tianming, my son," his father said, his deep voice carrying through the hall, "today, Elder Yan told me that your mastery of the Crimson Dragon Art surpasses even the core elders. You are truly the future of this sect."

The hall erupted in cheers, the disciples raising their cups in celebration.

"To Senior Brother Tianming!"

"To the Crimson Dragon's heir!"

His older brother, who had always been kind and never once stood in his way, chuckled as he poured Tianming a drink. "It seems I was never meant to compete with you," Li Yunxian said with a smile. "You were always destined to surpass me."

Tianming accepted the cup with a gracious nod. "Brother, your strength lies in your wisdom and leadership. Without you, I would have no one to guide me."

Li Yunxian smiled, shaking his head. "Even without me, you would shine just as brilliantly, Tianming."

The night was filled with celebration, and as Tianming looked around at the sea of admiring faces, he thought again how truly blessed he was. His life was perfect, his path set, his future secure. He had never known hardship, never faced failure. He was Li Tianming, the pride of the Crimson Dragon Sect, and nothing could ever change that.

Or so he believed.

As Li Tianming walked through the endless mountain paths leading toward the Storm Divine Sect, the cold night wind cut through his tattered robes. His black hair, once always gleaming under the sunlight, was now unkempt and tangled, strands falling over his face as he urged his horse forward. His amber eyes, once filled with satisfaction and pride, now carried nothing but the weight of betrayal. He clenched his fists around the reins, his heart pounding with emotions too tangled to name.

He had been a fool.

For all his brilliance, for all his so-called wisdom, he had never once seen the truth.

The memory of his brother's gaze that day burned in his mind like a scar that would never heal. Li Yunxian, his kind and gentle elder brother, the one who had never once stood in his way, had looked at him with neither anger nor hatred—only quiet inevitability, as if this had been decided long ago.

"Tianming," his brother's voice had been calm, almost sorrowful, as he stood among the gathered elders and disciples, sword in hand. "You were always too blind."

The disciples, the very same ones who had once bowed before him, who had once praised his name with reverence, stood with weapons drawn, their eyes filled with hostility. Their admiration had turned to something else entirely—hatred, disgust, and an eagerness to see him fall.

"Senior Brother Tianming, the sect no longer has a place for you," one had sneered.

And his father… The Sect leader himself, the man who had raised him, who had once called him the future of the Crimson Dragon Sect, had merely turned his back.

Tianming had knelt, confused, shattered, still clinging to the belief that this was some kind of mistake. "Father…" he had whispered. "Why?"

Li Zhonghai had not even looked at him. "You have no place here."

That was all he had said. No explanations. No mercy. Just a simple dismissal, as if Tianming were nothing more than a discarded pawn in a game he had never realized he was playing.

And so he had fled.

The golden road that had once stretched endlessly before him had crumbled beneath his feet. The throne he had been promised was nothing but a lie.

He had been a prince in a grand palace, basking in false security, while the walls were already collapsing around him.

Now, he was nothing.

A fugitive. A traitor.

A fool.

The hooves of his horse thundered against the dirt path, his breath misting in the cold night air. He had no choice but to go to the Storm Horizon Sect to train. Once, he had looked down upon the other sects as a lesser sect, nothing compared to the majesty of the Crimson Dragon Sect. Now, he had no room for arrogance.

Tianming's hands tightened around the reins.

He would not die as a fool.

He would survive.

And one day… he would return.

------

The world will know

Tianming was not just a runaway,

He was the Sovereign of Celestial Ascent